


Send me Right to Heaven

by emij1s



Series: Turn Forever Hand in Hand [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talk, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Semi-Public Sex, Shrunkyclunks, Top Steve Rogers, Twink!Bucky, cap!steve - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emij1s/pseuds/emij1s
Summary: Maybe it’s a good thing Bucky doesn’t quite get it, though. After all, he’s a menace enough with the skills he does have, with his ability to capture Steve’s attention with the slightest look, the barest hint that he wants it - if he knew all he had to do to get Steve to do his bidding was give him the barest hint of affection, Steve would be doomed. Let the whole fucking world burn; Captain America’s busy worshipping the ground his boyfriend walks on for the smallest scrap of attention in return.





	Send me Right to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This work takes place in the same universe as my fic [Ephemeral Style](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13040604), but you by no means have to read that one to understand this.

Bucky tastes like cherry coke. 

There’s a sweetness to him, always. It undercuts everything else, the tang of alcohol or the bite of spice or the mugginess of the morning, pulling Steve in and making him want to drown in the man in his arms. He’s soft, body not curvy but lithe and smooth under Steve’s hands as he drags them down his sides, slips beneath the practically see-through top he’s wearing, teases his fingers over the dip in his lower back, in the sweat pooling there. 

There’s a spark, too, always sitting ready on Bucky’s lips, like a shock to Steve’s system that leaves him reeling. He craves that feeling, that jolt of pleasure whenever their lips brush. There’s always the edge of a smile, the barest catch of teeth, something sharp and slicing that cuts through that saccharine sweetness and leaves Steve reeling. He’s like an addict, desperate to get his next hit from Bucky’s mouth.

Kissing cherry coke is a new experience to Steve, and the way Bucky reacts every time makes it seem like no one’s ever appreciated the experience like Steve does. He gives delighted little gasps and his cheeks warm, like he’s being kissed for the first time despite the expert way his tongue twists, the way he catches Steve’s lips, showing he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

It should be classified as a goddamn crime, to leave someone so enticing with no idea that he has the ability to captivate someone like he can. 

Maybe it’s a good thing Bucky doesn’t quite get it, though. After all, he’s a menace enough with the skills he does have, with his ability to capture Steve’s attention with the slightest look, the barest hint that he wants it - if he knew all he had to do to get Steve to do his bidding was give him the barest hint of affection, Steve would be doomed. Let the whole fucking world burn; Captain America’s busy worshipping the ground his boyfriend walks on for the smallest scrap of attention in return.

That bubbling taste disappears and Steve’s pulled out of his musings when Bucky throws his head back and breaks their kiss with a laugh, hands roaming up Steve’s chest, staring up at him under the neon lights of the dance floor. There are bodies surrounding them, and somehow Bucky’s pulled them right to the middle, where Steve had been determined to avoid - leave it to Bucky to get him exactly where he wants him without Steve even realizing - and they’re pressing up against them.

A stranger’s chest is nearly plastered to Bucky’s back, and Steve has to resist the urge to lift a hand from Bucky’s skin to shove him away. He’s placated by the way Bucky presses closer, doesn’t even seem to notice the man, and his hand finds itself digging in gently to Bucky’s delicate skin, sliding down and grabbing his ass in a tight grip that makes that wet, red little mouth drop open in a delighted gasp.

“Somebody’s handsy,” Bucky says - shouts, really, to be heard over the music, and Steve just laughs, grips him harder, hauls him towards his chest. 

“You complainin’?” he calls back, that Brooklyn drawl heavy in his voice, matching the way his eyes have gone lidded, and Bucky’s face does something funny - it’s like it twitches, eyes narrowing and lips pushing out for a fraction of a second, before it splits into a wide, beaming smile.

Steve’s been caught, then. 

He wants Bucky. Of course he does. Wants that small frame pressed up against him, cherry coke pouring out, and now Bucky’s noticed. Steve watches a wet lip get caught between perfect little teeth, worried for a moment, then slid free for Bucky’s candy-pink tongue to drag over, and he has to resist the urge to let out a groan.

It’s date night, they’re supposed to have a little fun here, in a busy, noisy club where Steve can have some sort of anonymity, and then Steve’s supposed to be allowed to drag Bucky back home and pin him to the bed to have his wicked way with him. It’s the plan, it’s set, Steve’s been getting ideas on where else he wants to have Bucky all night--

And the look on Bucky’s face tells him that plan’s about to get shot to shit.

He really, really doesn’t mind.

“You  _ see  _ me complainin’?” Bucky sasses back, drawing Steve back to the conversation, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss Bucky’s temple, pressing his smile to his sweaty hair. 

“See something, that’s for sure,” he says nonsensically against Bucky’s ear after he slides his mouth down a little, hunched slightly, clutching Bucky to him. Steve can’t dance, hasn’t ever been able to, and now’s no exception, but with the sway of people around them, it’s easy to follow along. It’s almost a slow dance, if not for the way his hand is still resting possessively on Bucky’s ass. 

Bucky lets out an honest to god giggle, and Steve makes a mental tally of how many drinks his boyfriend’s had. Not many, he’d had two at the bar and abandoned a third at the table before he’d dragged Steve to the dance floor, but Bucky’s small, and young, and it doesn’t take a lot to get him toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He’s not worried, Bucky’s fine, still steady on his feet, but he’s loose, relaxed and easy, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. 

“Yeah? Wanna share with the class?” Bucky asks back, and squirms a little when Steve lets his teeth graze the curve of Bucky’s ear, but Steve just hums and kisses the soft skin.

“Nope,” he says, and slides his hands around to Bucky’s hips, grip gentle, but immovable, and pulling him flush to him just to hear the way his breath catches a little. Bucky doesn’t push the subject - he never does, not in places like this, where he can barely hear Steve and they don’t really say anything important anyway - and just shifts his momentum forward, pressing his chest to Steve’s and smiling that sharp edged grin of his before turning his lazy sway into a grind, and Steve loses his train of thought for a moment.

God, but Bucky always feels so good, always looks so good, and here, his white t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, he looks fucking delectable, like Steve could lean forward and take a bite right out of him. 

He wants to, and Bucky must see it, must realize just how deep that want he’d spotted moments before really goes, because he gives a little groan that Steve feels more than hears and leans up on his toes, fingers of one hand grabbing Steve’s hair to drag him down into another kiss, bubbly and sweet and sharp and  _ fuck _ , Steve wants him--

And the pressure against his hips lets him know suddenly that he isn’t the only one who wants something here.

He laughs into Bucky’s mouth, and gets a bite to his lower lip for his trouble, but Bucky’s grinning into it, and the rolling of their hips turns dirty, friction through two pairs of too-tight jeans and boxers - that is if Bucky even bothered wearing any tonight. The thought makes him drag Bucky even closer, and he misses a step, gasping and falling into Steve, laughing breathlessly with it, their kiss turning from something with some sort of finesse to just a press of mouth and teeth and suddenly the playful air is gone, and God, Steve wants to strip Bucky down and take him right fucking here, crowd be damned. 

It’s like Bucky can tell how impatient he’s getting, or he’s feeling the same way, because he seems to force himself to take a step back, and his thin fingers wrap around Steve’s wrist, giving him a sharp tug and managing to worm his way through the crowd. He slips through the narrow gaps people create while Steve’s bulk leaves him bumping and pushing a little, mumbling little apologies and following after Bucky - because what else is there to do when Bucky Barnes moves?

Blue eyes toss a dark look over Bucky’s shoulder to him, and before he knows it they’re off the dance floor and closer to the bar, but they’re walking quick through that too, and Steve almost tugs them to a stop, if he weren’t so fixed on staring on Bucky’s ass in those jeans, and if he hadn’t watched Bucky wiggle his way into them himself, he’d be wondering who exactly he got to paint them onto his body.

“Buck, what--” he starts, but Bucky just hushes him, grinning again, almost dangerous.

“Just c’mon,” he says, like he’s trying to not catch anyone’s attention as he drags Steve along, like a little twink pulling a wall of muscle towards the bathroom isn’t gonna draw an eye or two--

Oh.

It clicks then, what Bucky’s plan is, and heat darts down into Steve’s stomach, coiling tight and low, and Jesus, he loves this man.

Bucky shoves the door open and sees that miraculously, the bathroom’s empty, and pulls him to the handicapped stall, slamming the door closed and cursing quietly when the latch doesn’t quite line up, little lips pouting out in frustration until he gives a little  _ ha! _ of satisfaction when he gets the lock to go, and by that point, Steve’s patience has run out.

“C’mere,” Steve growls, and his hands find Bucky’s hips again, but they lose a slip of that control that he’d had on the dance floor, gripping tight and making Bucky gasp, the sound turning into a low groan when Steve spins him around and shoves his back to the wall. He’s grinning, open mouthed, lips red, and Steve needs a fucking taste. He doesn’t hesitate, just pushes himself into Bucky’s space until there’s no such thing, and claims his mouth with his own.

His hands slide under Bucky’s shirt again, drag over his flat stomach and up his sides to his chest, and he’s so small he can just shift his hands to the side and get this thumbs on those hard little nipples, a gentle brush making Bucky jerk faintly between the wall and Steve. 

“Steve,” he complains into the kiss, twitching his hips forward, and Steve huffs. 

“Never have any patience,” he murmurs, like he isn’t already reaching for Bucky’s jeans to undo the fly, like he has a single ounce of resolve to make this slow. He’s not an idiot, he knows where they are, and he knows who he is - the last thing he needs is a tabloid saying Captain America was spotted fucking his boyfriend in a public bathroom. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like this’ll take long, if the tension in Bucky’s slight frame is any indication.

“‘S why you love me,” Bucky mumbles back, smiling like he can’t help it, and he follows Steve’s lead, working on the other’s pants as well, and Steve, ever the sap, can’t help the way his heart flips a little. He’s about to say something cheesy back, hands slowing, when Bucky jerks Steve’s pants down and reaches into his boxers to wrap his hand around his cock and instead pulls a slightly choked sound out of Steve.

“Christ,” he grits out, and he leans in to mouth at Bucky’s throat, teasing his teeth over the line of his neck, scraping it along the delicate skin and reveling in the way it makes Bucky’s head fall back against the wall, rolling as his body arches. 

“You gonna fuck me, Stevie?” Bucky asks, breathless, hips rocking again, and fuck, Steve can’t see it as anything other than a challenge.

“That what you want?” he growls, rising to the bait like he knows Bucky wants, and he kisses him again, thirsty, wanting cherry on his tongue. “You want me to fuck you, honey?” He pushes his hips up, into where Bucky’s hand is still curled around his cock, and grunts softly at the slightest hint of friction. He pulls back to look at Bucky’s face, and he might be the one with his dick out, but Bucky looks like a mess.

There’s a flush painted on his high cheekbones, and his eyes are a little wild, shirt askew from Steve shoving at it. One side of his neck is red, lines down the pale skin where Steve dragged his teeth along it, a little bite mark right at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He’s panting, little chest heaving with each breath, and there’s nothing for it, Steve’s got no choice - he shoves forward and kisses Bucky, pulling out a moan that echoes through the bathroom. 

Bucky doesn’t quite go pliant, but he’s definitely not protesting, hands grabbing at Steve, anywhere he can reach, nails scratching, and he never answered Steve verbally, not that Steve gave him a chance to, but this is answer enough, Bucky whining against his mouth and trying to get him even closer. He wants it. He wants it just as much as Steve does, maybe more, and Steve’s not in the business of denying his spoiled brat of a boyfriend anything.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, quiet, “you want it. Want it bad,” he tells him, and he watches as the color on Bucky’s face spreads. “Look at you, panting in a fucking bathroom stall cause you couldn’t wait til we got home.” He’s not sure where the dirty mouth came from, but if the little surprised whine Bucky gives is any indication, he isn’t mad about it. His eyes are wide, just a thin ring of blue left, and Steve shifts them, mourning the feeling of Bucky’s hand on his cock for just a moment before he slots their legs together enough to get a thigh between Bucky’s. He rocks it up, and Bucky sucks in a shocked breath, eyes rolling slightly.

Steve slowly circles Bucky’s thin wrists with his hands, lifting them and pinning them against the wall, starting a deep, slow roll, dragging his cock along Bucky’s hip and lifting him up onto his toes with his thigh, hard and muscular between Bucky’s own, rocking against him. Bucky is a goddamn sight, spread out against the white concrete of the wall, licking over his lips and gasping.

Steve leans in again, drags his teeth over Bucky’s earlobe, nips it sweetly, whispers “my desperate little slut,” and Bucky fucking  _ keens. _

“Yes,” Bucky whispers, agreeing, and Steve laughs, low and heated and holding a desperate edge he can’t keep from leaking into it. “Yeah, Steve, yours--”

“My what?” Steve says, and maybe he cut Bucky off a little early, but he wants to hear it. His cock is wet at the head, smearing on Bucky’s pale skin, and Bucky wiggles restlessly. His pants button is undone, but they’re so tight that it barely means any relief for him, and his cock is obviously hard. He’s riding that line between turned on and desperate, and it’s fucking beautiful to watch.

“Steve,” he whines, and he’s flushed all the way down to his neck now, but Steve doesn’t give up. He just leans in and bites Bucky’s jawline, squeezes his wrists, and Bucky gasps, jerking and obviously frustrated when he can’t get any purchase with the way Steve’s got him barely touching the floor. “I’m - I’m your slut,” he says, and a full-body shiver goes through him, eyes squeezing tightly closed.

“Good,” Steve tells him, soft and quiet, and it makes Bucky wiggle even more. Steve would be worried he was trying to pull away if not for the way he’s rubbing his cock against Steve’s thigh, and Steve starts that rhythm up again, getting Bucky to calm down a little when he gets the friction he was after back. “Shh,” he tells him, and he skates his hands down from Bucky’s wrists, along the delicate skin of his inner forearms, watches the way the touch makes him shake a little. 

“Shh,” he says again. “I got ya. I’ll give you what you need, baby. Just need fucked, don’t you?” Bucky gives a confirmation in the sound of a desperate gasp, and he blinks open his eyes again, staring at Steve like he hadn’t expected to bring this out of him when he’d eye-fucked him all night and dragged him into a public bathroom. It’s adorable. 

Outside, the song changes, the bass reverberating through the bathroom shifting to something faster, and Steve remembers himself a bit. They don’t have a lot of time - the bathroom door doesn’t have a lock, and while they have a little privacy in the large stall, someone could come in at any time. 

He wants to be deep inside Bucky before that has a chance of happening. 

Steve lowers Bucky back down, letting him find his feet, and kisses him again, because he can’t help it, because Bucky is a fucking drug, and when he looks like he does, desperate, ready to melt for Steve, he can’t help it. “God, Buck,” he groans against his mouth, and he gets Bucky’s pants pulled down roughly, and he was right - there’s no boxers to worry about, just skin, just smooth thighs and a hard cock for him to stare at before he pushes Bucky again, his back hitting the wall, making him give a little, almost affronted exhale and pout at Steve before Steve reaches back and grips him hard, one hand on his ass and one hand on his thigh, and hauls him up, pinning him to the wall.

“Steve!” Bucky gasps out, and his hands scrabble at Steve’s back, startled, like he’s scared Steve will drop him. Steve just drops his head down and kisses soothingly at his pulse point, feeling it hammering beneath his lips. 

“Shh,” he mumbles yet again. “‘m not gonna let you fall, baby boy.” He squeezes Bucky’s ass as if to show he’s telling the truth, and it calms Bucky down again, until his panting is just from his arousal, from the feeling of his cock brushing against Steve’s shirt as the both of them shift to a more comfortable position. 

He leans in and kisses the hinge of Bucky’s jaw before biting it, making it drop open. “Hold onto me,” he tells Bucky, and Bucky listens, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. It’s easy to hold him up, and Steve shifts the hand on Bucky’s thigh up, until he’s gripping his ass with both and squeezing hard. He pulls back to kiss Bucky, but he catches the look on his face, and he stops. Bucky looks almost shy, but smug, eyes gleaming and matching the near-proud twist of his lips.

“What?” Steve asks, searching his face, eyes narrowed playfully, and Bucky just hums, rubs his hips forward until Steve squeezes again, his hand shifts, and - oh.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes out, his fingers brushing against the plug inside Bucky. He’s starstruck for a second, staring at Bucky with his mouth dropped open. He went through dinner with this. He went through the trip to the club, he went through sitting at the bar, through dancing - and then Steve almost glares. 

“You  _ planned this _ ,” he accuses, voice low, rough like gravel, and Bucky doesn’t even refute it.

“You know I get all worked up, Stevie,” he says, breathy, leaning in to try to catch Steve’s mouth in another kiss, and of course Steve lets him, but he pulls away shortly.

“Y’know, I was teasing before. Now, no. No, I’m dating a little slut.” He digs his fingers into the flesh of Bucky’s ass, and he whines. 

“‘m just bein’ a good boyfriend, baby,” Bucky insists, kissing Steve again, biting his lips, tugging with his teeth. “You can just pull it out and push into me, honey, don’t you wanna?”

“Of course I fuckin’ wanna,” Steve grits out, and he pushes a little, pinning Bucky against the wall again, enough to shove his own jeans down and get his hand around his cock, easier to move now than it’d been when Bucky was touching him. He uses that same hand to reach back to Bucky, gripping the base of the plug and tugging it teasingly until the widest part is stretching his hole, reveling in the whimper he pulls from him, before pushing it back in. Bucky makes an outraged little sound, and Steve laughs, then pulls the plug out for real. They don’t have time for Steve to tease Bucky like he wants to, but next time. Oh, next time. 

He drops the plug carelessly to the floor, and Bucky grunts softly. 

“Better fuckin’ clean that,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve just hums. 

“I’ll buy you another one, hush,” he tells him, rubbing his fingers against his hole, marveling in the way he can so easily push two into Bucky. He’s wet, desperate, tightening around the digits, and it goes straight to Steve’s cock, making it twitch, precum dripping and rubbing against Bucky’s thigh. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, insistent, almost whining, and Steve lifts his hand to Bucky’s mouth. 

“Lick,” he tells him, and Bucky leans in, dragging his tongue along Steve’s palm, slicking it. “Good,” Steve praises, kisses Bucky, and he strokes his cock to wet it, before lining up, teasing the head over Bucky’s hole for just a moment before he lets himself push in, and Christ, entering Bucky is a goddamn religious experience, every damn time.

He pulls back and watches Bucky’s face as that tight heat takes him in, struck by the way his brows draw together, mesmerized by the drop of his mouth and the way he squirms desperately as he takes it. Steve’s not small, and the plug hadn’t exactly been large; he’ll feel every inch, and he’s gasping for it, tip of his tongue teasing over his lips like he can’t keep it still, like he’s searching, and Steve kisses him again, cherry popping on his mouth.

Steve stills, just long enough to let Bucky get used to it, but as soon as that desperate, whining “ _ move _ ,” leaves Bucky’s lips, Steve’s obeying, pulling back only to shove himself back inside Bucky. 

“Fuck!” Bucky cries, and he jolts, nails biting into the back of Steve’s neck where he’s gripping at him. He might draw blood, and the sharp prick of pain just spurs Steve on more, growling and setting up a harsh, near-brutal rhythm. Bucky can take it, he knows he can, and he takes a bit of advantage, knowing Bucky wants it so bad he won’t tell him to slow down, not when it means Bucky gets to feel even better even faster.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” Steve groans as he thrusts, and Bucky’s practically bouncing against the wall, mouth open and eyes closed. “God, takin’ me so good, so perfect, Jesus Christ it’s like you were made for it.” And it’s true, he feels so good that Steve knows he’s not going to drag this out, wouldn’t even if they had the opportunity - and what the fuck, but the threat of being walked in on no longer feels like a threat, instead it makes the heat wind even tighter in him, makes him fuck into Bucky even harder.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps out, and that seems to be about all he can manage, not that Steve can blame him, not that Steve can really think about more than having Bucky against him, around him. It’s heady, that control, holding Bucky’s small frame against the wall. Bucky might be clinging, but it’s Steve doing the work, gripped tight under his thighs and shoving himself up into him. As if to prove it, Bucky’s hands drag down to his biceps, squeezing the muscle there, whimpering at the strength he can feel in the bunching of Steve’s arms. 

Bucky’s cock is red and desperate, leaking on both of their shirts, and Steve adjusts, pace barely wavering as he lifts a hand up and wraps it around his boyfriend’s dick. Just that pressure has Bucky crying out, and Steve kisses him, lips sliding wetly together, sloppy and messy, muffling Bucky’s noises. He can be as loud as he wants like this, so long as no one walks in, but if that happens - well. Steve’ll just have to find a creative way to shut him up. The thought makes him shove into him even harder, cock punching into him, making Bucky’s eyes roll and head fall back, breaking the kiss before Steve claims his mouth again.

He strokes Bucky, and it’s so sticky and wet and perfect. Bucky makes needy sounds that slide hot down Steve’s spine and spur him on, and if he were paying attention maybe he’d see it coming - but suddenly Bucky’s coming, nearly screaming against Steve’s mouth as he spills between the two of them, over Steve’s fist. His whole body goes tight, and Steve all-out whines, shoving his hips forward even harder, just a handful more times before he’s done as well, gasping and coming hard inside Bucky. 

Bucky’s practically limp in Steve’s hold, gasping desperately, and Steve groans, buries his face in Bucky’s neck and kisses soothingly, murmuring soft praise. “God, baby, so good, so fuckin’ perfect,  _ Bucky _ , holy fuck.” Bucky gives a sleepy laugh, ducks his head, and brushes his lips against Steve’s. Cherry coke, perfect and soothing, slides along Steve’s tongue, and he shivers with it. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, panting into each other’s mouths, smiling like idiots, and when Bucky pulls back, he looks exhausted. 

He smiles at Steve, unbearably fond, and whispers “I love you,” and Steve feels like he could fucking fly. He kisses Bucky’s sweaty forehead. 

“I love you too, baby,” he says back, soft and soothing, and he gentles his hands on Bucky’s thighs, unclenching his fingers and rubbing at the muscle gently. “You okay? Wasn’t too rough, was I?” Concern that always wells up in him rears its head, making his brow furrow, but Bucky’s already giving a quiet little hum of disagreement.

“No. No, it was perfect,” he tells him, leaning in and kissing him again, soft and sweet, and Steve relaxes. “Mm. Put me down? We gotta get outta here.” Steve hates it when he’s right, but he listens, easing out of him and murmuring soft apologies when Bucky winces a little as Steve’s cock slides out. 

He pulls Bucky back from the wall and helps him find his feet, watches the way he stumbles slightly, knees bending like a baby deer and falling into Steve a little before he manages to steady himself by grabbing at Steve’s shirt. Steve takes a gentle hold of his arms, just until he’s sure Bucky’s got his balance back, and watches with a fond pressure in his chest as Bucky pouts a little.

“I’m never letting you fuck me in a bathroom again,” he says, sour, and Steve can’t help but sputter for a moment, mouth dropping open.

“This was your idea!” he says, and Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I know. But you’re supposed to be the responsible one. Now I got come drippin’ down my leg and my favorite plug will never be the same.” Bucky’s so crass, and it makes Steve’s cheeks pink up slightly. Steve watches as Bucky leans against the wall for a moment, and eyes the toilet paper as if about to grab some to clean up, before just reaching for his jeans.

“Aren’t you--” Steve starts, but stops when Bucky looks at him, smirking a bit, his previous annoyance dropped. 

“Nah,” Bucky dismisses, zipping up his fly, and he licks over his swollen lips - Steve thinks they might be bruised - before cocking his head to the side. “You like me messy.” Steve’s cock gives a twitch, and he grits his teeth against a groan, hurriedly doing up his pants as Bucky does the same.

“Let’s go home,” Steve says, and Bucky hums in agreement, moving towards the stall door, and Steve falls into step behind him, hands touching his waist gently and dipping his head to speak into Bucky’s ear. “I’m not done with you yet,” he tells him, and Bucky’s breath hitches, making Steve laugh. 

They step out of the bathroom and Steve shifts to Bucky’s side, sliding a hand into the tight back pocket of Bucky’s jeans, and Bucky grins up at him like sunshine, winking, and Steve thinks no, I’m not done. 

Steve won’t ever be done. Not when he’s got Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the amazing and wonderful [Slenderlock](http://slenderlock.tumblr.com), who takes my writing and turns into something that can actually be understood. Title from Serial Killer by Lana del Rey. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Come find me on [tumblr](http://witchyturneywrites.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Edit: I've put this and Ephemeral Style in a series, and anything that happens in this world will be added, so if you like bratty Bucky driving Steve crazy, watch this space!


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